After Voldemort: Death of an Era
by CataclysmicReality
Summary: Even after a year, the world does not rest. Doomed by the outbreak of war, both Harry and Voldemort were taken by the nuclear fire that destroyed half a nation. Was the prophecy wrong, or will the discovery of Harry’s diary reveal a darker truth?
1. At Death's Door

Chapter 1: **At Death's Door**

"Com'on, com'on! Let's move!"

Gunfire split the night, just as the fires of explosions and the debris from them rained all around.

Smoke, so thick that it choked the night sky, made it impossible to see.

Like thunder, a large echoing boomed across the land, as the buildings illuminated by their burning members, shook with every deafening explosion.

Yet somehow, footsteps, the sound of running was still just loud enough to hear, as it came closer to the abandoned church.

"There! How 'bout there?"

"Where? I can't see!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake… Lumos!"

A bright flash of light flared from nowhere, cutting a path through the denseness of the wall of smoke, but behind it, only shadows could be seen clearly.

"Ah… got it!"

There was a sound of a doorknob being grasped, but it was certain that the door was locked.

"Shit! I don't have time for this!"

With a cry of bloody death, the owner of the voice rammed the door, and it broke open.

From the inside, the door was knocked aside and the broken shards littered the already decimated floor. The inside was just as bad.

"Quick! Inside!"

Two people ran through the door, the reddish smoke billowing in behind them, then another came through, who supported a fourth against them. All four wore black cloaks, and all four were considerably worse for wear.

Ignoring the depravity of the place, the first through the door knocked aside some of the beams that had collapsed from the ceiling, and cleared away some of the pews. Then, they went on to find a place clear of the broken stained glass. There were few spots.

The one behind the first, and considerably shorter, cleared the glass away with some spells, and then produced a blanket via transfiguration.

"Quick, bring her here!"

The third figured obliged, and laid the fourth figure upon the blanket, being careful to keep her head comfortable.

With tenderness, he held her close. But yet, he was careful not to move her too much.

"Luna… Luna… it'll be alright."

He pushed her hood aside, and the face of Luna Lovegood stared back, the well known spacey look long replaced with a tender one. Then, seized by a fit of coughs, she succumbed to their violence as they racked her body. With trembling hands, she closed them upon the hands of the figure hovering above her.

"Will… will it… will I?" A tear graced her cheek as she shuddered anew. A dark splotch of blood soaked her right chest, as a bubbling bullet wound festered below. It was clear even without a spoken word, that she was scared. "I don't… I don't want to… to leave you, Neville."

The figure leaned down again, the hood sliding off his head, revealing a Neville who looked as though he was entering his late twenties… nowhere near what a nineteen year old should look. His cheeks were tear stained, and his lips trembled. But he tried his best to put forth a brave front.

He gripped her hands hard and said softly: "And you won't have to… you won't." "He swallowed hard as he choked back a new line of tears. "I won't let you. Because I love you."

She smiled serenely and spoke even softer than he, but with a smile.

"And don't I know it."

Together, they shared a subtle kiss, and went back to their whisperings of love.

Apart from them, the other two figures had moved away, to give them their privacy. For all they knew, Luna wouldn't last the night.

With mournful eyes, Ron Weasley watched the tender scene from beneath the hood of his cloak. Each passing second scored a new line of agony in his already tormented heart, and served to render his very soul. Unable to stand it any longer, he lashed out against the wall.

"FUCK!"

From behind him, the gentle but weary eyes of his companion watched with an already broken expression.

Try as she may, she was unable to hold her peace as graciously as she wanted. Like Ron, she too wished to hit something. However… looking at the hole in the already beaten wall, and the redness of his knuckles, she would rather it be against something far more pliable.

"When will it end, when?" shouted Ron in an uproar.

He had done well to hold it in until now, but it was past the point of fury.

With tears in his eyes, he clutched the broken window ledge until his hand bled. "I never thought I'd see the day when I actually could sympathize with Sytherin's view of the muggles." He looked up wildly. "I'm sorry Hermione… but even your parents… they're on 'that' side now."

Hermione did not blink. Ron's rage and outburst were all too forgivable. Besides… it was already well known that the side he meant was the one of death, and not the enemy. For it was on the day of the first strike that her parents had met the same fate as Harry.

No one knew why the muggles fired. No one knew why they had done the unspeakable, but they had. In the blink of an eye, half of England was a smoky crater, and Voldemort was dead. As was the boy who lived.

Just that alone was more of an impact to the wizarding community, more than any bomb could ever be.

Yet… it was always thought that the muggles were beneath the magic society in everyway… though, that was fastly proven wrong. In the blink of an eye.

Since that day… since that day…

The war with the muggles began.


	2. First Light

Chapter 2: **First Light**

When the war began, the remaining Horcuxes that Harry had yet to destroy had been decimated as well. It was truly the end. The end for all things.

Now, instead of living in fear because of one shadow, there were no happy moments, as fear came from all things.

Somehow, impossible as it seemed, those of non-magic had gained control of the knowledge that was vital in the wizards' defense. Knowledge that could only be gained from the inside.

There were traitors.

To make matters worse, the beasts and things of the wizarding world had come into the open. Dementors and dragons and giants and all things… they all came at once.

For now however, it was only England's war.

It was isolated.

In light of the happenings within the country, the international community strove to keep it such. Radioactive fallout across the continent of Europe did not do well to help England's cause. Instead of aid to the entirety of the UK, it was quarantined. No one in, no one out.

Or so they thought.

Caught in a war they did not summon, many users of magic fled across the pond to the other countries.

With them, the news of the horror that had been wrought since Voldemort's defeat made those familiar with the entire history yearn for the original days of fear. At least then… muggles were harmless. That just wasn't the case any longer.

However… a relief effort was already underway in the greater parts of Europe.

Already, measures were being taken to discover the events that lead up to the beginning. Also, efforts to control the dangerous magical creatures that had not traversed the channel were already underway. The dragons in particular were strangely the most determined to wreak havoc, having been bottled up and contained in isolation these many centuries.

Those of the relief force not involved in quarantine were instead charged with global modification. In layman's terms… they were in charge of modifying memories of those in prominent positions into thinking the tragedy there was nothing more than the actions of a renegade terrorist faction, and not due to a war of their two races. It was a difficult falsity to entertain… let alone enforce. Still… they needed to do something.

Meanwhile, even more drastic measures were being taken in such that they were preparing to take the country back by force… a collective takeover from the outside in. It was an absurd if not impossible task… but something needed to be done… lest it spread. And if not stopped soon… it was only a matter of time.

* * *

Hermione lifted her hand from the overly still chest and smiled sadly.

In life, she had known the girl before her as incomprehensible… always sprouting the most bizarre of stories and the most irritating 'facts'. Over the years… especially the past one, she had become increasingly less herself as the harsh attributes of the real world fell into place. Instead, her love had taken over… and if not for her actions on the groups' behalf… yesterday could have been their last.

It just hurt now… that in these moments she would have found the reality Hermione had been attempting to feed her for all this time. It hurt that she would have to make her life easier by forgetting that of another one lost.

As she got back to her feet, she looked from Luna's expressionless face to the one that rested next to her.

It was a painful mask of so many emotions that she couldn't even bring herself to try to decipher just one. Unable to look further, she tore herself away and made her way across the debris laden floor to the figure she looked forward to seeing the most. As she picked her way towards him, he stirred and lifted his head.

"Hermione?" He pushed back his hood so he could get a better view of her eyes. "How is-?"

Hermione closed her eyes so she would not have to relay the emotion through them further, and instead, shook her head. No more words were needed.

In response, Ron said nothing, just looking at Hermione with empty eyes and a vacant expression, before letting his head fall back against the broken bench behind him. With his eyes looking toward the far wall, even out past it, to the sky beyond, he let his lips part only slightly.

"I'm sorry…"

"There was nothing we could do…" she started, but knew then that his whisper wasn't really directed towards anyone. With that understood, she just nodded.

"It's quiet." Ron offered, trying his best not to cry.

Hermione nodded again.

"Yes," she agreed, "it has been for a while now."

"Who do you think won?"

She looked at him sadly. "I don't think… either side wins anything…"

"No… they really don't… do they?"

There was a pause in their conversation… neither really having anything to say further. Instead, they both remained as they were, too tired for even thoughts.

After what could have been hours… or even just minutes, the sky began to brighten.

The darkness was breaking… and even now, thin streams of light were breaching the horizon.

In the church, the light played across the surface of the shattered glass, giving a false perception that the floor was drowning in a rainbow-ish sea of sparkling diamonds. For a world that was lacking beauty, in gave a false sense of majesty.

In kind of a trance, Ron picked up one of the blues, and rolled it absentmindedly over his palm.

"Hermione…"

"Yes?"

"We can't stay here…"

She gave a brief nod, and then looked over to the sleeping Neville, who was still deeply clutching Luna, the trails of salt on his cheeks sparkling in the light.

…

"I know."


	3. Discovery

Chapter 3: **Discovery**

Ron looked at Hermione for support, but knew that she was going to be of little more help than he. Still, it was daylight… that meant they wouldn't be the only ones to move... and in this war-torn society, even an invisibility cloak would do little to keep one's location hidden.

"Come on, Neville… there's nothing more we can do for her."

Neville shook the hand off his shoulder and went back to crying at Luna's side.

"Just leave… just leave me." He said though he choked on each word. "It's better that way."

"You may say that… but even that is impossible." said Ron with a sad tone.

"Why…? Why can't you? What's wrong with it? Just go!"

"And then what? I leave you… just as we left Harry… just as we left most of our classmates since." He looked away, not wanting to catch Hermione's eye. "And then what…? One day it'll come to a choice of Hermione or I? Then what am I to do? Leave her as well… because that's the only thing we'd ever learned?"

Neville opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught as the words hit him.

"At the very least… we need to continue towards the coast, as we had set off to do in the first place."

"But… even so… to what end? We can't assume anything will happen different there. Why can't we just lie down…?"

"And take the easy way out?" Ron swallowed, then made up his mind. "He didn't… so why should we?"

"No…" Neville agreed. "No," he said with a bitter taste in his mouth, "he wouldn't give up… he was stubborn like that. And that's why he was the lucky one. Because he was the first to leave this hell."

Neville paused, and clutched a stone in his hand, one from the wall in the back. "No… he fled… and picked the easy way out! Curse you!" He raised his arm, and cocked it, and the rock he held, back in the firing position. "Curse you… Harry Potter!"

With that, he pressed all his emotions into the cold object and lobbed the physical embodiment of all his pent up emotion as hard as he could. Like under some spell, his other companions watched it go as it streaked across the way and into the back wall, which did exactly as they thought it would. It did nothing at all. It was a stone wall after all.

Ron had reached out to comfort him, but when the curse came, though it came just as words and nothing more, he could help but recoil as though stung. Harry was his friend after all… but so is Neville… and so is… or was… Luna. They were all friends together. They had all supported each other.

It was just that fact that made it hurt.

However, before Ron could say another word, there was a subtle crumbling noise, as though the beams left intact were starting to give.

"This is bad…" he tried to grab the arm of his friend, but he pulled away. "Come on… Hermione! Help me!"

"No!" cried Neville, as he buried himself against Luna's shoulder, "Just let me die!"

Ron was about to object further when Hermione suddenly grabbed his arm and pointed at the wall.

Sure enough, there were cracks across it… but it wasn't anything that should damage the building's structural integrity, rather, it looked as though only one lone rectangular section was about to go. Curious, Ron forgot his worries a moment, and his fear was replaced with fascination.

Unable to prevent his action… though an outside force itself was guiding him, he went to the place that had given away from Neville's abuse. Truly… it was very intriguing.

With a cautious hand, he lightly traced his fingers over the cracks with the lightest of touch.

That was all it took. Just as ancient paper would crumble to dust at a feather's touch, so too did this section of the wall, as it crumbled apart, revealing a hollow in the wall. And within the hollow, was a book. As though it was meant for them to find it.

Just that in itself was beyond curious.

With shaking fingers, Ron reached out and grabbed it.

When nothing happened, he extracted the book and brushed the dust from its cover. From the faint covering of dust… it couldn't be more than two years old.

"What the hell?"

There was something of the book that reminded him of the past… something familiar.

Something… evil?

He shook his head. No, that was the diary Harry had defeated… Riddle's diary. But it was strange… for this book looked nearly completely identical. Unable to resist, he opened it. And when he did… he beheld…

Nothing.

Immediately scared, he dropped it, because it was Voldemort's diary that also was one that was blank.

But when this book hit the ground, its pages fell open to a section that was very much written on.

At a closer inspection, it seemed that this was only one of many of entries.

Surprisingly, it wasn't him, but Hermione that retrieved it first.

When she did, she only looked at it a moment, before dropping it again, uttering a noise of shock as she did.

Before anyone could ask, she opened her mouth in utter disbelief.

"This… this is…" she looked up at Ron, and then back to the book, "this is Harry's."

"What?"


	4. Parting Paths

Chapter 4: **Parting of Ways**

"What do you mean…? Harry's?" asked Ron with disbelief as they both regarded the book. As far as anyone knew… all traces of Harry had vanished just as much as he had. After all… to think as though he had actually existed was a reason for disbelief in itself.

"Just as I said," replied Hermione with a hint of annoyance, "these words… this writing… all of it… is his. And… these dates…" she picked up the book, and began to flip through its pages at an increased rate. "These dates are from the time when he disappeared!"

"What?"

"I'm serious!" Hermione replied excitedly as she pointed to the tops of the pages where the dates were. "And these… these were before he left his cousin's house… just before he tried to come to the Burrow!"

Ron looked over her shoulder, then reached out and pulled it from her hands in disbelief.

"Are you… serious? This is really his?" A worried line crossed his brow. "I didn't even know he kept one…"

"Isn't it obvious? He decided to keep the records of his journey, just in case he fell… so we'd know where and how far he got! I bet… I bet it has all the horcruxes and such too!"

With that, she snatched the book away and began to rifle through the chapters at an alarming rate… at a rate he hadn't seen since her happy days at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts… just the name itself felt so long ago. Had it really only been two years?

It felt like eternity.

Still, something just didn't feel right. Without worry for his personal safety, he plucked the book from her hands once more, and ignored her noise of discontent. For some reason… it just didn't feel right.

He looked back to the hollow cavern left in the old wall. Despite how it seemed… it had a rather ominous feel about it. Just like the book itself… he began to wonder if this was a bit more than simple circumstance… for it felt much too more… like danger.

"I- I think we ought to put it back. I don't think we should fool with the unknown…"

"But… it's Harry's after all, from that of what I did read." She looked completely sure of herself. "Besides… just before you took it again… I could have sworn he wrote something… about the muggles… and a war." She lowered her voice. "This war."

Ron looked at the book a moment, and then gaped at her.

"You… you, you're kidding… right? How could the two things be related?"

There was a moment's pause and Ron looked from the book in his hands to Hermione, to Neville and Luna… then back to Hermione. But it wasn't a vantage from the greater part of the room looking upon them… but from the hollow itself.

Ron shook his head again.

"I just don't- What's that?" He asked as his head snapped up to a sound that came from outside. "It sounded… never mind…" He looked at the book again. "If it's true… then Harry might have stumbled upon something related. I guess, we'll just have to take it with us. If it does have something, it may be critical and extremely valuable.'

Hermione nodded her head and then watched as Ron tucked the book into his clothes. Then she looked at Neville, who seemed to have not heard one word of their conversation.

Almost to echo her thoughts, the break in the clouds above began to close, taking the sun's light with them.

There wasn't a better time to move… if they were going to. At only a moments glance at Hermione, she gave a silent nod in return, and the two went to Neville's side, who had stopped crying… but only because he was no longer able to produce them.

"Neville… don't let her death be in vain. After all… we just might have discovered a way to end the war… if this truly holds the secrets of what started it." Ron said with some doubts in his voice as he eyed the book in his hands.

"But we can't go without you," Hermione injected. "Just the two of us might not survive the journey… we really do need you."

"But so… but so did she," said Neville as he looked up into their faces. "So did she… and I couldn't help her." He looked away, and back at her body.

There wasn't any sign of pain in her face, and with her eyes closed; it looked only like she was sleeping.

"But… I'm sure she would have still helped even had it been the other way… actually… I know she would have… because that's what she was." His mouth began to tremble and he collapsed against her once again, dislodging her wand. Then as it rolled from view, he started to cry once again, with fresh tears.

"Neville…"

"I… I-I know…" He sobbed. As he pulled himself up, he rested her arms against her chest, and kissed her one last time on the forehead. Then he closed his eyes, bowed his head and said goodbye in a series of non-understandable whispers.

Then, he stood, falling against Ron for support, as he hadn't stood for many hours.

"Goodbye…"

He turned from her and Herimone positioned herself on the other side, the three of them staring at their lost friend… just one of many they had already lost before.

"Goodbye Luna…"

"Goodbye…"

"Do your best… and we'll do the same."

With that, they turned away, though Neville stole one last, longing glance from over his shoulder, then the three made towards the door, the sunlight fading gradually as the clouds over ruled it.

As soon as they were gone completely, the darkness of the cloud covered sky once again consumed the decimated church, leaving all shadowed once more… or was it?

At the wall, in the hollow that now stood empty, there was a strange light. It was a soft light… one that's glow permeated the surroundings with an air of death… and that emitted an increased sorrow of emptiness that made even the stone walls sad. With it, there came a presence, and even feeling… that was there any living they would surely flee. As there were none, it was all the better.

With that, the formless gave way to substance, though with no more influence than that of a ghost. Still, it was a form. One that smiled.

"Hm… and I thought they'd never leave. But it was nice of them to drop by… my friends."

The form laughed a bit, then strode forward towards Luna's unmoving body. When the form had arrived next to it, it knelt down and put a hand out.

"Ah Luna… what has happened that this is your fate? That you should fall here and now… that your friends not learned in the arts to save you… that they should leave you here… to die." He smiled. "Because you aren't you know… dead that is… there's still a spark, however miniscule… however pathetic. But I…" He reached out and ran his hand against her cheek and let it come to rest, cupping her chin. "I… I know you'll be just fine. Heh heh… Just fine indeed."

Without pause, the form moved forward, and kissed her lips as passionately as one could without a body. And then, faded away completely.

And then quiet had once again claimed the church, but only for a moment, as the silence was pierced with the sound of a sharp intake of breath, followed by a fit of coughing, as Luna once again joined the world of the living. But there was one problem… though it was Luna… it was clear when she spoke, though it was still her voice… that it was clearly not her at all.

"Ahhh… of all things… I did not miss pain. What foolishness… to allow oneself to get shot in the chest of all places!" With an agonized shaking, Luna, who was not Luna, reached for her wand beside her. With shaking fingers, she clutched it and brought it from out of where it had rolled, and to the open wound, and with the other hand, wadded up part of her cloak and put it in her mouth just as she thrust the wand tip into her bubbling wound.

As natural, a resounding muffled scream of agony ensued, just a moment before she regained her composure, and mouthed an incantation that she aimed directly within.

Grinning, she extracted the bullet as she withdrew the wand, and pulled the wad from her mouth as she sat back with a weary heave of her body. As she sat there, breathing heavily, she shook her head and her dirty hair fell limply around her face. Also, her breathing gradually eased as the wound in her chest not only stopped hurting, but started to close… started to heal.

With a final sigh, she gathered herself and her things and stood. After making sure there were no traces left, she went to the wall, and stared at the hollow, which seemed to retain its radiance.

Her eyes, which in her youth appeared in such a way to make her look dim and airy, did no such way as this time, with this… as windows… they betrayed the fact that it was no longer her soul behind them. These eyes now, burned with an intensity the body had never yet experienced. In fact, the whole body stood a different way now, one which radiated a power that fell in tune to the one from the wall.

"That's enough… your job is done."

At that, the wall crumbled, and the radiance died.

Satisfied, she turned her attention to the room, and smiled.

"As it is… circumstance has it… that _you_ are no longer needed either."

Just as with the wall, the room acknowledged the comment, and began to burn.

"Now then…" she tucked her hair back into her cloak and returned the hood to its proper place, shadowing her face. In turn, she also brushed the blood from her chest, which was now healed completely. "It is time to return… for he will wish for it."

With that, she smiled, and disappeared completely. Only to reappear… in another country entirely.

And with darkly reflected eyes, turned to the mountains that had replaced the desolate place of before.

She had traded inferno for frozen retribution.

And it was an exchange most welcome.

Smiling, she turned to the mountain's base, and waved her hand, revealing a path that had not existed prior.

Adjusting her hood in response to the cold, she proceeded forward. After all… she was going home.


	5. Sanctuary

Chapter 5: **Sanctuary**

The three travelers cautiously picked their way through the ruined town. As mentioned before, the fighting as of the moment had subsided, though just that in itself gave little merit for carelessness.

Despite the good conditions for travel, two factors were laying heavily upon their decreased group.

Luna was dead. That alone was enough to slow Neville ten fold, for with every agonizing step forward, his leaden feet seemed to grow all the more heavy. It was his wish to remain behind, and though he had been coerced to move forward, the simple fact remained that his heart was left behind. Without the heart, the body would fail to move… in actuality. Given that it was only emotions, he would live.

Aside from that, the diary of another departed friend.

Just its existence was enough of a shock in itself. However, the potential for truth and discovery into the cause of states that surround them were staggering. Though only a glimpse was seen, there were more than enough reasonable means to suggest the diary to be beyond expectation.

If not for its perspective on their world as it is and was, but even just to read the words from one that would never speak again.

Just that thought was enough to cause hurt.

Still, the impact left by the muggles was one of great chaos. Nuclear assault… of all things. And the reason… even more mysterious.

But then again, there was the greater mystery behind it all. Aside from who initiated the strike and for what reason, just the devastation wasn't the only pain among those of the magical world. For afterwards, those with magic closes to radiated areas seemed less capable. Rather, it was as though that radiation neutralized the ability to control and ultimately use magic.

Of course, this is how science would look about it, that the gamma particles in the radiation disrupt the flow of magical energies in its entirety… were there those who understood the correlation between the two. But as it was… it seemed entirely circumstance. For what self-respected wizard would engage in muggle sciences? And what muggle scientist could possibly know of the elements of magic.

All in all it was simple; there was no such.

Yet there was… had to be.

After the destruction, the devastation, there had to be a connection… a link as it was between the two. For it had to be connected to the reason in the first place. Wasn't the reason after all… to rid the world of the two greatest wizards? Though, just that could be left in question in itself. Voldemort was certainly great… but for the boy who challenged him, even being of age in the wizarding world, he was still just a whelp. One who may have managed the rigors cast upon him, one who may have risen against and stood odds against every challenge thrown his way, but still one of inexperience.

That was Harry Potter.

The one whom all wizards had the greatest of expectations for. The one who was the 'chosen' one. He who would deliver them from the evil that was.

He who would die with the one whom he sought to destroy.

That after all… was his destiny.

Still… too many questions remained unanswered in the long run. Too many uncertainties existed. Too many thoughts left disturbed.

But now, if there were those answers… it seemed likely that there might be some… some of those, contained in the book that rested in Hermione's hand.

And if it was answers it contained… what would they be?

And would it grant solace for those of the living he left behind?

Only time would tell.

Whatever it left… when all had be read and understood, hopefully it allowed him to find some truth of happiness, to which he had spent his life denied.

* * *

The Carpathian Mountains… majestic and vast in their being, the great fort of ice and stone, once thought to contain Europe's last vestige of the ancient world… where thought could be in all likelihood, the last home of the dragons of old. Even those muggles not aware of dragons' actual existence, thought as much. But for those who know, the select few not hindered by the deception surrounding it, they knew this place by another name… despite the rumors. 

They knew it… or at least the truth within the illusion… as sanctuary, or otherwise…

Home.

And so it was, that these were the thought possessed by the one who was in possession of a girl not their own. A body that was not their own.

Yet still, a body of use.

And so it was, very useful. Even in the harshness of the forbidding mountains, regardless of path or passage, for just the elements alone were dangerous enough.

But as it was, this was nothing to dissuade, for the one in possession of the body, the one who wore the form of the girl Luna, pushed onwards.

Weak though she may be… powerless in terms of magical essence, was it, her body, truly of use? The one who resided within her thought as much… for it was not the body itself that possessed the ability of magic, but one's soul. And as such, her soul was replaced by one with much stronger ties to the magical fabric of the world beyond. As such, it was enough… to contain as a container should.

Besides… it didn't have to be perfect… just good enough.

And as it was, it was good enough just to get there. For here, is exactly where she was. Standing at the end of the pathways as such. Even were muggles to discover the path hidden so well by the mountain, they would come no further, as they would face only two paths further. The path up, for those who wished to climb foolishly… and the path down… off the mountain entirely, and into the void of empty space.

It was a fall that would lead the unfortunate to their deaths, and as circumstances had it, the one path she, Luna, was now to take.

With that, she turned towards the blizzardly space of oblivion, and took a step forward… and stepped into that of another world. The world of Sanctuary.

She smiled.

No, in truth, it was still the same world, but just an aspect of it that remain hidden to all eyes but those who were prepared to face death… or those of the chosen.

Here, nestled within the void of the mountain range, was a plateau of sorts, that lay tucked from normal view by the powerful enchantments that science had yet to duplicate. Stretched from one mountain-side to another, with the peaks of those towering above like a crown, a vast and empty landscape devoid of civilization's touch. But… even devoid of that, it was not empty… no, in fact, it was very much alive with activity. For this… was where the dragons roost.

The nature of sanctuary.

All around, from expanse to mountain side, to rock outcropping, lay the living bodies of the most fierce creature of ancient legend, and one of the more dangerous of the wizard community… dragons.

Such magnificent creatures… with such strength and power. Most people knowledgeable typically thought that their populations were under control and restricted mainly to Romania and select locations scattered through Europe and Asia, that none would suspect that they thrived elsewhere. When that was in fact… a lie.

The dragons not only thrived here, but in many other places of this mountain expanse, between Poland and Slovakia.

It was here they, the Horntails and the Ridgebacks, could live, breed, fight, and die, all under careful watched companionship of the timeless one.

After all… more or less, he was one of _their_ kind, despite to what degree his form swayed otherwise.

…That guy.

Luna paused a moment at the edge of the great plateau of sanctuary, the great platform of the elements held aloft above the cold mountain valleys below, such to the point of the magical enchantments that were one to only know of its surface, and not of its great jagged, rocky bottom, then they'd think it solid. But if that's only if they had the chance to think it over… for more likely than not, these creatures would make little of them in a matter of moments. For anyone to survive here… luck would have to have sided with them wholly. Otherwise… strength spoke truer than most.

As it was, those thoughts knew their worth well, as across the great rock, and among the roosts of the mountain side, many of scaled head had turned towards the stranger in their midst. Of all dragon traits, curiosity wasn't high on the list. Instead, this was 'scouting', a circumstance prior to attack… where the victor of the bloodshed to follow would be the one left with a meal.

Knowledge which would make any weak and white with fear. For Luna however, this was not the case. As she was now, not herself at all, her only reaction to this undeclared animalistic hostility was one thing…

…a smile.

* * *

AC (4/1/06): My original intention was to go a lot farther in this chapter... but I needed to cut off somewhere, and my writer's block is returning, so this is needed. I'll try to quicken the next update for compensation. (Thanks for the encouraging review so far.)  



	6. Lair

Chapter 6: **Lair**

A smile in the face of danger—one that spoke volumes without carrying a single hint of structural speech—this was what adorned her lips now.

It seemed foolish at best, from an outsider's perspective it certainly was, what... to smile at a dragon? But to her, or rather the being within, it was a smile that one would wear upon greeting a dog left behind so many years ago, and the happiness of the reunion there after.

However, despite her emotions and indifference being as they were, the dragons held no such emotions, and those few quick enough to the scene were already landed before her. With savage hunger and unrestrained rage they advanced toward her, all intent to make her their meal. But it certainly wasn't to go their way.

With but a gesture of her hand, 'Luna' held them at bay with but a simplistic spell and a haughty laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous... you haven't got what it takes to even scratch me. So let's do away with other foolish notions while my mood is still light."

There was a flicker of light between her and the various dragons as though punctuation to her words of implied malice and the dragons reluctantly complied with her wish and turned away. Other dragons further up the Cliffside went back to sleeping or simply watching the stranger walk amongst their fellow kin as though without a care, as she proceeded across the frozen plateau to the small ice cavern on the other side.

Here, she chose a moment to pause as she ran her hand upon the ice-encrusted opening to that which looked as a tunnel made of an ice not of water, but of a sapphire-blue liquid that if anything, made it look colder. She uttered the smallest of sighs just before ducking her head through the opening.

Though small at first, the narrow passageway quickly widened and heightened to a point where she could walk comfortably. Despite being that of ice, there was plenty of traction and even a comfortable environment regardless of the cold in the air. That, and the light level was more than satisfactory even without aid of additional magic.

Further in, the passage broke through to a wide cavern with majestic stalactites and stalagmites—some of which rose to meet each other in the middle—forming columns that were several storey's high. But aside from what was natural was something far more amazing.

From that which looked part of a Frankenstein movie was an entire odd collection of assorted muggle goods and technology that looked both out of date and state of the art. Though the being in Luna still wasn't quite sure of what it all was, it was less than comfortable with this aspect of the environment than that of the wizarding world that was tied in. What with the cauldrons and the potion cabinets, as well as the extensive collection of scrolls and texts new and old... it was like that of a library. And a look even further back revealed what looked to be a study and even sleeping chambers.

As it was, this was a special place even without the novelties. But all in the same... it was a place that this Luna needed to be. Rather, the being inside her needed. And what it was that it needed was just before it.

Like that of a giant vertical test-tube, connected to a foundation of technology at the base and top, where various pipes and valves and indicators all fed into different aspects of it and the tube itself. But... it wasn't the technology itself... but that which floated just beyond the glass in the crimson-black liquid behind it.

Absently, Luna put her hand to the glass and attempted to peer through the murk though such a thing was pointless. She thought momentarily of breaking it to appease her curiosity.

"Ah—" came a relatively young and strong voice from elsewhere in the chamber. "I see you've returned to me. Though I must say that I wasn't certain at first, and thought that it was truly a young lady come to my lair to solicit."

"Heh... you flatter me sir..." came Luna's voice in a mocking tone. "But I do so kindly wish you'd save your jokes for a time more appropriate. I'm not quite in the mood."

"You still are without manners, I see."

Luna turned about turns the voice that came now from behind her. There, dressed in a black cloak with a shimmering green hem, was the figure of a man. Though his hood was up and shadowed his face from better view, his red eyes shown clearly and even a glimpse of fang was possible.

"You look the same as always I must say."

"True enough... time has yet to visit me again." He smiled in his own darkness and brandished a small green-jeweled pendant before him. "Yet this part of you has remained my sole companion these past few years. For that much I thank you.

"Now then... I believe you have waited long enough for this day to come. So I will relieve you of that pitiful form and bestow upon you your true body."

With the last of his words, there was a brief pause as a supernatural fire rose from Luna's skin, hanging just for a moment before sliding through the glass into the tank—leaving the empty vessel Luna fall to the ground in a slump. Then, just like that things were quiet.

Quiet...

Quiet—a small noise.

It was almost indistinguishable at first, but then as a louder cracking sound. A sound that's source remained nearly completely concealed in the low light environment, save for the keen eye of the watchful figure. Watchful he was as cracks danced across the glass tube, heralds of the sound as well as the escaping liquid that followed each pass. An escape that made it look as though the glass itself were bleeding.

And then, in a final chattering of glass—it was over.

Like that of a drinking glass shattering upon the floor, the tube of glass broke apart and showered its pieces on the lifeless body of Luna before, falling upon the already crimson soaked floor from the gush of the moments before. Where in the middle of the now broken tube crouched the naked body of a young man, who faced away from the figure behind.

With almost no movement at all, the figure flicked his hand and a black cloak with a blood-crimson hem appeared upon the young one as though it had always been. There was a soft breathing as the newly emerged man breathed in the first air of his new body. Bits of broken glass lined the circle of where the tube wall was, but aside from that, he and his small platform were free of obstacles.

"So..." offered the original cloaked figure. "How does it feel to be back to the world of the living?"

There was a slight laugh and the newly born man stood slowly. "'Back to the world of the livng'? I never left. What with my horcruxes, was there ever a doubt of this?"

"True enough. And of your body? How does it feel?"

The man flexed his fingers and formed a fist with his right hand, as he pushed back his hood with his left. Untidy black hair that remained frozen by cold in a spikey fashion adorned his head. He turned his head—not enough—but just so that a familiar looking scar upon his forehead was visible in the light. He smiled.

"How does it feel? Never better."

"Isn't that good, then." The man smiled as he looked at the newly emerged younger man before him. "Welcome home...

"Harry Potter."


	7. Prior Thought

Chapter 7: **Prior Thought**

"Welcome home, Harry Potter."

The newly returned-to-flesh Harry Potter acknowledged the words and the speaker with a slight tilt of his head, but did nothing otherwise. Long ago, when he was simply a student at Hogwarts and without any shred of a supportive family network, he would have longed for such words. Now however, there were simply no emotions. He was beyond such simplicity.

His benefactor smiled. "So cold? And after the time apart, I thought you'd be happy to return to this place." Instead of meeting Harry's eyes, he instead looked upon the broken container from which Harry had emerged. "And yet... you've returned and now you are choosing to break my possessions. Don't tell me you've picked up bad habits on your travels."

"Happiness?" Harry asked without much care. "Who says I wasn't?" He looked to the broken glass upon the floor and the broken rim from which they were a part, and raised his hand level to them. "And you say I have broken things..." There was a shallow emanation of light around his hand just as around the shards on the floor. And just with a flick of the hand they flew back into place without so much of a crack's difference from what it had been. "To what, may I ask do you imply?"

"Impetuous—no, nevermind."

"And don't tell me that you—sir—have been lonely these past years? That time should matter to you is much of a joke I cannot laugh at." Harry said flatly. He watched the other man for a reaction before he began inspecting his new body in renewed interest. That he no longer needed those annoyances upon his face was the first thing he favored.

"Time..." came the thoughtful response from the man as he knelt beside the unmoving vessel that Harry had traveled in. "Is never a simple thing. Live long enough and the ever decreasing length of every successive year is rendered null by the absence of a simple companion. Such is a teacher's bane in life... for his students never wish to remain after they deem themselves as knowledgeable." He paused as his hand inspected the neck of Luna. A thin smile crossed his lips as he turned his eyes toward his distant student.

"Curious—she's still alive?"

"Naturally." Harry said indifferently. "I'm just that good."

"I see..." He picked up her body gently and laid it upon a summoned couch. "Quite arrogant as usual."

"Of course. That aside... there was nothing to gain from her death. Though weak and foolish, and utterly moronic, she fulfilled her usefulness whether conscious or not, and to that I am thankful. I'd suppose you'd find weakness in that?"

"No… there is no weakness when there is strategy. Should she still live in the times to come, use her life as but an extension of your own. Having been a host body she is more than weak to simple suggestion." He paused in his thought before speaking again. "Or is her use just to live?"

"Hmph. There is acceptance of lies when humans receive that which they thought lost to them. I am sure she will be more than useful in that respect alone."

"To your friends?" He inquired earnestly.

"To whomever." Harry said absently as he inspected his hand and its movements. "But for people who know us both it would be best."

"I see." There was a knowing smile. "And how are your friends?"

There was a brief pause as Harry thought about the question.

"Distraught... suffering... but alive nonetheless."

"And England, I hear that it is rather a mess these days?"

"Something like that. It doesn't really concern me."

"And my... other student?"

"Is dead." Harry replied to shortly. "Of that much I am certain of. Though in the end not with that of my own strength—but theirs." He spat bitterly. There was a fire of loathing that burned just behind his eyes as he spoke.

"Not your strength? A sword—whether yours or another—is nothing but a useless piece of metal unless the hand that wields it wishes to extract its full potential. Though not yours, if you use a sword to kill, and you use your own hands to direct it—is it not used with your own strength?"

"Teh... I hate when you have a point. Still, the sword I used seemed a bit excessive at best. I almost thought that even my spirit would be lost to 'that'." Harry said with a smile. "Some Muggle weapons are quite effective when pointed right."

"Of course." His companion stated simply and with a twinge of bitterness. "If it's taken that to convince you—you clearly have not paid attention to my lessons. That aside... and loathe as I am to send you back into that mess, I have another errand for you."

"Oh?" asked Harry with curiosity. "So your hand has been moving after all."

"Quite."

"And, I suppose the one who's aiding the Muggles as well as causing an attraction of magical animals to the island is all your doing? For what purpose?"

"You need ask? Only the best of reasons I need."

"Heh... always the same, aren't you?" Harry said with interest. He eyed his companion with a renewed expression of interest.

"So what did you have in mind?"

* * *

Outside of city or town, in the rural hills of a nameless site of southern England lay the ruins of what looked to be a farmhouse aged in excess of two hundred years. Run-down and collapsed in places, signs of being rebuilt numerous times in other locations, was a building that was even smaller than a simple one bedroom apartment. No one in their right mind would think it habitable... let alone that it would only be ten years old today. That, and that it was no more than an outdoor shed.

The house that it belonged to had long since returned to the elements.

Still, as it was it was a momentary home for whomsoever the passerby at the moment. Only meant for brief occupation as it was neither sound against warmth or weather... and that all who had since chosen to stay had already entered the same state of the house. Empty and abandoned.

However, today was different. Today there were guests.

Two occupants.

One male... one female... both adults by today's standards, and of course, by yesterday's as well. Cold, wet, tired, and hungry... both looking the worst for wear, and huddled against the only sheltered part of the collapsing wall. Neither spoke... instead they both kept apart and to their own. One of which looked as though given up on living, and the other with a dead expression of lifelessness. There wasn't even enough feeling to harbor a tear.

Just that thought alone was enough to want to cry.

Still, as it was there was some happiness in being alive. After all, there were so many these days that weren't. And that, a happiness in selfishness was just as good enough a reason to cry as any.

But all the same, the young woman Hermione just couldn't bring herself to do it. She just couldn't risk it, for fear that should she start she may never stop. Even though the reasons were more than one to smile. But more than anything, she had to stay strong for Neville.

As he was now, he was sleeping, but she never really knew whether that was true or not, and should she cry when he was awake would mean to break in strength. Her fear after that was the same as Ron's before; should emotion be allowed grip on one's mind, then the will to press on would fade with what little strength remained, and the person would simply expire from lack of trying. Such was a circumstance she just couldn't bear responsibility to.

Besides... there was still something that had promise of hope—even if the hope that might provide its source was already gone. And that hope rest in her hand... in the form of a worn and beaten diary. A diary she hadn't even the strength to read. That she couldn't read was enough of a reason in its own right for tears.

She was just... so tired.

Even the sky above, which her eyes rested upon, looked tired. The clouds looked tired. She briefly wondered if her soul was tired.

She wondered if this was the feeling one underwent before dying...

Suddenly her heart seized in her chest at the sound of a sharp snap of a stick outside, and the footfalls that led to the still-intact door. Out of habit and reflex she prepared her wand—and waited.

One tap.

Two taps.

Three.

With a sigh she tapped back with two taps slow and four rapid delayed.

Lastly, there was one more additional tap from the outside.

With that, she opened the door and intercepted the falling body halfway to the floor.

"'lo... Hermione..."

"How was it?" she asked quickly just incase he lost consciousness.

"Nothing... just like we feared... all water dried... all foods barren."

"Easy Ron, rest a bit before you speak." She removed a canteen from around her neck and pressed it into his hands. "Take this. Drink some."

"I can't do that... that's your water." He stated meekly. "I have my own after all... though a bit empty-"

"And how's that good!" Hermione said raising her voice. "Don't be like this... don't be so stubborn."

"Heh... that's just my role." Said Ron with a sense of pride. He seemed happy just to be in her embrace... even if it was merely him being supported.

She shook her head, her hair sweeping from her hood and along with the side to side motion that nearly entranced him, before taking some of the water in her own mouth and pressing her lips against his and forcing the water into his mouth through the moment of surprise. Reluctantly he accepted it before slumping the rest of the way to the ground.

"So forward... I can't believe you're the same Hermione who hated me all those years." Ron said with a tired grin.

"It's for your own good." Hermione said as she eased him against the wall where she had been sitting. "Besides, I never once hated you."

'Huh...? Yeah, right." He seemed to chuckle to himself more than anything, "There were lots of times."

"Well—" she thought momentarily, "You were a jerk lots of times."

"Heh... damn straight."

"Anyways," Hermione responded, trying to settle him for some rest. "Try to get some sleep for now." With a feeling of renewed strength she eyed the diary that she had thrown to one side in the prior moments. "I'm going to do what I do best. And then maybe we'll figure out our next move in the morning."

"Sounds good... g'night 'er-my-knee..." Ron said lazily as he drifted into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Hermione picked up the diary and checked the door as well as Neville and the now sleeping Ron. Satisfied, she turned full attention to the book.

"Sleep well... everyone..."


End file.
